Against the Odds
by Kivalle
Summary: Dramione, mature themes. Set in their 7th year, Voldemort is still about but the trio is still in school. What does this mean when hormones begin to rage between two fundamentally different teens?


_Leave no track  
__Don't look back  
__Leave no trace  
__Hide your face_

_Full of desire-Temptation  
Keep climing higher and higher-Temptation  
Adorable creatures-Temptation  
With unacceptable features-Temptation_

_Now trouble is comin'  
it's just the high cost of lovin'_

_-Temptation_, Cradle of Filth (cover of Heaven 17)

* * *

Shadows covered the empty hallway as students slept peacefully in their beds, lost in their dreams both pleasant and terrible. Hurried footsteps sounded in the hush of the full moon as a figure darted from shade to shade, its black cloak pulled around it tightly, obscuring the being within. It paused in front of an ancient oaken door, seemingly catching its breath that was just audible in the dim stillness. When it was sure that all was quiet, a hand darted forth from the cloak's sleeve and grasped the door's rusted handle, pulling it open just wide enough to slip through.

Moonlight poured through the windows of the seemingly abandoned classroom. As the door clicked shut, the figure leaned against it, giving itself a moment for its eyes to adjust to the light. The beams illuminated the rows of desks long out of use that had begun the slow process of dilapidated decay. At the front of the room a larger desk sat, behind which a small spiral staircase led to a door up in the wall. There were no other adornments in the room, save a row of trophies that shone a dull gold in the pale light.

The hood was pushed back as the figure advanced into the room. Reaching inside the robes, the hand produced a wand and laid it on a desk in the middle of the room. They continued on until they reached the large desk at the head of the room, turning to lean on it while gazing at the back wall-or, more importantly, the door. All was quiet in the room as the swishing of cloaks stopped. If one were to listen carefully enough, they might have made out the rapid beating of a heart unsure of its purpose in the dark room.

"Were you followed?"

The voice, definitely masculine, cut through the silence like a knife. The figure at the desk turned, groping for a wand that was no longer there. The door at the top of the spiral steps had opened silently and another cloaked figure stood there, looking down. The expression on the face was indiscernable from floor level, though the unarmed figure could guess at it.

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

The higher figure descended the stairs and approached the other, a solid pace. Blonde hair flashed in the light as it passed a window but was quickly enveloped by the shadows. He moved past the one on the desk and went to the middle of the room, where the wand was lying harmlessly on the desk. His own soon joined it, and he removed his cloak and placed it on a desk next to the wands. The other did the same, revealing the curves of a young woman beneath her white button-down shirt and black skirt. A crimson and gold tie shone in open defiance on her chest as it moved up and down in a steady rhythm. The boy turned and advanced quickly on the girl.

He stopped just as he was about to overtake her. His arms shot out and caught her by the wrist, holding tightly but not too hard. Pale gray eyes full of moonlight gazed deeply into chocolate brown. There was almost a hint of loathsome loving in them as he leaned his face closer, eyes never breaking contact. His lips were an inch away from hers when he spoke. She could feel his cool, sweet breath on her mouth as he said, "You don't know what you do to me, do you...?"

Without waiting for a reply, he captured her face in his hands and her mouth with his. There was an urgency in his movements, but they were also tender and somewhat gentle. The girl responded in kind, her hands gripping the back of his neck and his side. She firmly held him in place as their lips moved as one unit, sending pleasurable jolts trough their young bodies. Both were young adults, to be sure, but still contained some youthful innocence of earlier days.

They parted for a quick moment to breathe. The blonde assaulted the brunette's neck with his tongue and lips, urging her to tilt her head back to grant him access. He inhaled deeply, almost intoxicated by the mix of perfume and her natural scent. The assault continued with renewed fervor, small quiet moans escaping the girl's swollen, parted lips. Her hands left his person and tightly clasped the desk below her, keeping her steady. His head dipped lower on her. His hands were making steady work on the buttons of her shirt, exposing inches of flesh as he went. Her deliciously creamy pale skin raised in goose bumps as the chill night air reached it. They were quickly put down as his strong, warm hands covered and caressed her waist. The shirt fell down to the desk, leaving her clad only in her white silk bra and defiant tie. He pushed the tie out of his way with his nose and sucked on her collarbone, right above her increasing heartbeat.

She risked losing her balance by letting go of the desk in favor of running her hands through his silky blond hair. His hands were roaming up and down her torso, exalting in the feeling of her soft skin covering the lean muscle beneath. His head dipped down to the small valley created by her cleavage. He kissed the gentle rolls of the top of her breasts heatedly. Her chest began to heave with the sensations he was making her feel. Slowly his hands grasped hold of her bra clasp and with an almost expert twist she was free from the garments constraint. The girl freed her hands from his hair long enough to let it slip to the floor.

The boy gathered his reward in the form of her left breast. He lavished his attention on it slowly, enjoying the sound of the girl's moans as her head tilted back in pleasure. His eyes glanced up towards her and a grin lit upon his busy features. His attention shifted to the other breast, with his eyes still glued to her face. Her eyes were shut and her mouth was wide open. Apparently she didn't care much for being quiet anymore.

He stopped and drew back an inch, relishing the reaction he warranted. He realized vaguely that his pants were strained rather tightly now. Feeling rather proud of himself, he decided to put his old competition down.

"What would Weasel say if he could see us now, I wonder…?"

The smug grin on his face didn't fade as her eyes opened and she looked disbelievingly down at him. Her pleasure had all but faded at this one remark-he just hadn't realized how fully he'd offended her. He moved to reclaim her body as his but she pushed him back.

"What?" She glared at him, her chest still heaving. His eyes zeroed in on them and stayed there. She ignored it and his question and continued to look hatefully at him. He drew his eyes up to her face when she didn't answer. "Oh, come off it. You haven't felt anything for him for months now; you said so yourself."

"That doesn't make it fine for you to wish him to see this."

The blond rolled his eyes and moved to recapture her in his arms again. She kept him at a distance once more. He sighed, frustrated. The strain in his pants was beginning to get to him.

"Come on babe. Let's just forget my little slip and-"

"Don't call me babe! I told you I don't like it." She bent to retrieve her bra from the floor. Realizing that his little quip had lost him any chance of release, he began to plead.

"Fine, whatever, no more 'babe.' Please, let's keep going." He indicated his pants. She clasped her bra in place and moved to retrieve her shirt. With her back to him, she began to button it up. When she finished, she turned and took his hand in hers. Looking into his eyes in the pale moonlight, a clock struck somewhere close within the castle. It was early morning already.

She raised his hand to her lips and kissed it tenderly, eyes never straying from his. "I'm tired. Use this."

A look of disbelief overcame his features as she dropped his hand and moved past him to retrieve her wand, cloak already in hand. His hands ran through his hair and he leaned back, stretching. His pants ached from their excitement, and he was frustrated. He turned to look at her, planning on reasoning with her more, but she was already at the door, cloak in place and hand on the doorknob.

She was looking at him, a mixture of pity, sadness, and want in her eyes.

"Goodnight."

She didn't wait for a reply; she turned the doorknob and was out in a flash. The blond boy was left there alone; an ache in his pants his only companion.

* * *

AN: I know, I know- I'm straying from my Fleurmione fic. But rest assured, this will be a quick one. I hope. Anyway, I'd like a beta for this story. It's just a diversion but I'd like it to be good. Shall I continue it?


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